Drowning
by For The Love Of Cheese
Summary: Broken. She was broken, battered and bruised. Filled with dark secrets that dragged her down below. She would never be the same again. But then again, neither would he. Isaac/OC.
1. Prologue

_This is an Isaac Lahey story. I have it on another site called Mibba so it isn't stolen. _

_This story will contain strong scenes such as violence, abuse and mild rape. _

_Isaac/OC. _

_Soundtrack: Seven Devils by Florence + the Machine. _

Holy Water Cannot Help You Now.

* * *

**NO MATTER HOW HARD SHE SCRUBBED,** she couldn't get the filth off her, the dirt. She had bathed five times already and she still didn't feel clean enough. It was still there, crawling on her skin, ghostly touches and caresses. The bruises were starting to form – silent little reminders of the horror that just took place.

No matter how much she wanted to forget, she couldn't - the scenes were just replaying in her mind, rewinding over and over again. His filthy fingers crawling up her back, caressing her slowly as if expressing love. Those same damn fingers destroying her innocence.

She could no longer be Florence Baker, pretty, happy, smiling, laughing Florence.

She was now dirty, ugly, filthy, broken, battered, _**violated**_ Florence.

She was destroyed.

Ripped apart by some drunken stranger.

Poor dear Florence.

_You don't deserve to live._


	2. Chapter One

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Teen Wolf. All those rights belong to it's creators from MTV. I do claim all ownership over Florence, the character, and all other original characters that will be present throughout the story. Thank you for your co-operation._

_we all carry these things inside us that no one else can see.  
they hold us down like anchors, they drown us out at sea. _

* * *

**FLORENCE BAKER WAS NEVER THE SILENT TYPE**, she was quite the opposite; always chatting up a storm with whom ever would listen. She wasn't the annoying type who'd only talk about herself and her own problems, she would actually talk about others and theirs. She would put everyone in front of her - she would help you no matter what you've done or what everyone thought you'd done. She was kind, sweet and modest, and that's what attracted Isaac in the first place.

When everyone thought he'd killed his own father, even after the charges were dropped, she would be the only one offering help, whether it was as small as listening or actually helping him with his work, she did it. She listened to him even before his father died, and as much as she wanted to tell his secret, especially on the days he'd walk in with a noticeable limp, he told her to keep it a secret and she did.

She was the type of person everyone befriended, the person you could talk to even if you had just met, the person who would listen with unprejudiced ears, a person who'd keep your darkest secrets and not tell a soul. Florence was the universal friend.

She was never one to be seen with anything other than a smile on her face; her smile had the ability to melt the coldest of hearts. Florence was just one of those girls who was naturally happy, no gloomy thoughts plagued her, misfortunate never touched her; it was like she was made of sugar, spice and everything nice.

So you could imagine Isaac's surprise when, on their first day back as juniors, he finds Florence shut up like a clam, no words escaping her lips. Her eyes were darting across the hall as if something – or maybe someone? – was about to pop out and attack. They no longer held the light that once shined in them; instead they were ten shades dimmer.

She looked half dead – a corpse walking. Her skin, looking close to a pale blue, was tight against her bones; Isaac bet that if he could see her hidden skin, he could almost count them, even if he didn't have his increased eyesight. Her attire was no longer cute, summer dresses, filled with light pastels and flowers – she was wearing a grey oversized sweater with matching sweats. Her dirty, worn sneakers were squeaking against the linoleum, echoing through the filled hallway.

Florence Baker was not the same.

And Isaac Lahey was determined to find out why.

* * *

**SHE COULD FEEL THEIR EYES ON HER**, following her every movement. She clutched tighter to her binder, as if it were the lifesaver keeping her afloat on the torrential storm at sea. She wasn't ready for this; she was still recovering over what had happened to her over the summer. She could still feel the claws on her, filling her with dread to her very bone. She could still hear his whispers in her ear; feel his vodka breath against her skin.

As much she tried to forget what happened, she could never forget him. Even if he wasn't there physically, he lingered in the deepest parts of her mind - waiting for her to forget just so he could remind her again and again.

His words were constantly echoing in her head.

_You're a dirty whore, such a filthy slut. You deserve what's coming to you._

As much as she told herself that she didn't deserve what _he_ had done to her, she still let his words affect her. As much as she wanted to deny his words, deep down inside, she agreed with him.

Why else would he have done it if she hadn't provoked him with her attire?

She was exactly what he said she was.

She was a dirty, filthy whore.

She didn't deserve to be loved.

She continued to her homeroom, lingering in her thoughts, oblivious to the eyes that were still watching her.

_She was just a shell of who she used to be._

* * *

_I've decided to update earlier cause the prologue was just so short. Next update should be in a week. _

_To all of those of you who faved and followed this story, I cannot thank you enough. I owe you all a huge big hug cause you like this. _

poorxbrokexcollegexkid: _I'm so glad you think I've done this subject justice. I know a lot of people use it meaninglessly in stories, not really grasping the severity of the subject. Rape is not something to be used as a small point in a story. Someone does not get over something like that as easily as some characters I've read. I was scared I'd completely massacre it, so thank you for your review. I hope you'll continue reviewing this story to help me stay on that path. I've never tried something this dark, fragile, and serious._

_Can't wait to read all your reviews. _


	3. Chapter Two

_**Disclaimer: MTV owns all the rights to Teen Wolf, including the wonderful Isaac Lahey. I own Florence and all original characters.**_

_**Another update for my lovely readers. I'd like to thank poorxbrokexcollegexkid, chey1235, and Wolf9lucky for their wonderful reviews. I hope you guys enjoy this. :)**_

* * *

SHE WAS BROKEN, Isaac could tell that much. She was broken and scared and losing herself with every unsure step. He knew the signs. He lived through them – the constant fear of not knowing what was going to happen next, recoiling at every touch, hiding in the background, hoping no one would notice. That was his life before the bite.

That was what his father did to him.

He destroyed his youth, tainted his soul, and ruined his esteem.

To his father, he was stupid, ugly, and would never be able to rise to the amounts of his brother. He was constantly living in the shadows of his father's past. To his father, he could have very well been the reason for his brother's death. He was an abomination.

That was all over now, though. He didn't have to live with that self-loathing anymore.

But that didn't mean the memories just faded away. He still had nightmares every night of being stuck in that damn box, gasping for air, hoping for an escape. Nightmares of bloodied fingernails and bruised fists, of yelling and screaming at the top of his lungs and still not being heard.

Nightmares of almost dying at the hands of his own father.

_And as much as he tried to deny it, he was just as broken as she was._

* * *

SHE COULD HEAR THE PITTER-PATTER of the raindrops on the roof. It had been raining this hard since she arrived home that day. As soon as she made it home, she stayed on her bed and stared at the ceiling, hoping that it would somehow take her back in time, maybe make her disappear.

She had never been the weak type, never been one to let someone's words get to her. But she had let his pierce her, and it had left scars for everyone to see. Everyone had noticed a change in her, well, everyone excluding her mother, who was never home anyways.

She didn't blame her. Her mother had to work two jobs just so they could have a roof over their head. It had been this way since her father died when she was six. He had cancer and when he passed, her mother could hardly afford the medical bills and his funeral arrangements. She had to add working over time at her nursing job, and adding a third mortgage on the house just to pay it all.

She missed her mother immensely, she missed being able to talk to her and get advice from her – but it had been so long since they'd last talked, actually talked – that she didn't know how to do it anymore. She couldn't even talk to her mother anymore.

She made her way slowly down to the kitchen to get a glass of water – it seemed to be the only thing she could digest lately. After getting herself a drink, she made her way back up, only to be stopped when she saw the bowl – still filled with cereal – on the table.

The Lucky Charms had been there since that morning, evidence by the dissolved marshmallows in the milk. Her mother had made it for her – morning seemed to be the only time she actually saw her mother – and she had played it off as first day jitters. As soon as her mom left that morning, she followed close behind, forgetting the cereal.

Grabbing the bowl and making her way to the sink, she dumped the contents down the drain as lighting flashed the sky. In the mist of the rain, wind, and lighting, she saw a blurry face pressed against the glass.

"_Hello, slut,_" the voice, _his_ voice whispered. Hands smacked the glass, causing Florence to jump.

She dropped the bowl. It shattered on impact against the metal surroundings. She ran upstairs, forgetting her glass of water behind her.

She could feel her sanity slipping with each passing moment.

She didn't sleep that night.

_Just like the night before. _


	4. Chapter Three

**I'm so sorry this took so long. I've had it written down for like a week and I forgot to post it. Will you forgive me?**

Disclaimer: You know I don't own none of this. Would I be here? I think not.

* * *

**HER HEART RAPPED AGAINST HER RIBCAGE, **at an incredible rate. The thudding seemed so loud that she thought the neighbors might hear. Florence curled up tighter with the teal comforter, trying to disguise herself among the sheets. It was six fifty-nine – her mother was due in at any moment and she did not want to go to school, not today.

Florence knew what she saw last night. He was there, waiting for her, watching her. He was there with his dark skin and red eyes. He was in his true form, showing her the monster he truly is. He was just waiting to sink his teeth in, claw away her skin. He was just waiting to drown her.

But they had a name for what happened last night. They called them echoes. The article said when a person suffers through a traumatic experience they begin to suffer from vivid hallucinations of said experience. Many things could bring it on, from something as small as a familiar sent to similar weather of the night. As logical as it sounded, Florence couldn't believe that it was all a 'hallucination,' it couldn't have been. It felt too real.

And even if it was just an echo, she still didn't want to leave. To risk another echo from the slightest smell would be too difficult, too risky. She'd rather have to live the rest of her life in solitude, than have to relive the fear and shame she felt last night.

But alas, fate was not on her side and a moment later, her mother busted through the door in her usual morning call. And instead of burdening her mother with the knowledge of what happened to her daughter, she placed her mask on. Life would now be a masquerade, filled with decorated masks and affective disguises.

"Honey, get up," her mother crooned, softly pushing her daughter's hair behind her ears. "School's soon, and you need to eat breakfast. I poured you some cereal."

Her mother hummed softly as she left the room, leaving Florence to her thoughts, completely unaware of what passed through her daughter's mind.

If her mother ever found out, she wouldn't know what she would do. What if her mother hated her for letting such a thing happen to her? Would she even believe it? She couldn't risk it. Her mother was the only person she had left in this world, and she would not, could not ruin their relationship.

These were the fears Florence harbored while she entered the filled Physics room. She mindlessly made her way to her previously empty table, which was now occupied by Isaac Lahey, who was smirking at her obliviousness.

She sat down, just like everyday, and placed her bag in the usually empty seat adjacent to her. Only this time, she noticed the body on the seat before she let the bag go. Once she realized what she'd done, her eyes widened and the mousiest whimper escaped her lips. Her hand recoiled, dropping the bag on the floor with a muffled thud.

Another sound escaped her, this time a quiet gasp. Her cheeks reddened and soon the redness spread throughout her face, creating a great contrast against her pale features.

She stayed quiet, staring at Isaac with a slight fear in her eyes. Isaac watched her – they shared eye contact, something he couldn't break if he tried.

He searched her eyes, slightly dazed by their deep color. In the back of his mind, he was thinking just how could a person have such emerald eyes? They were so enchanting that Isaac almost missed the fear they held. _Almost._

Isaac breathed in, taking in the smell of her. She was drowning in it, completely full of it. It was all around her, sucking her in and taking a hold of her.

**Fear.**

It was taking her hostage.

Once he caught the sent of such fear in her, directed towards him, he knew he had to help her, had to save her somehow. It wouldn't be long before such fear brought her to do a terrible thing.

And Isaac could not let himself stand aside and watch what consequences it would bring.

Her eyes quickly broke contact, shifting to the chalkboard right in front of her. She didn't dare look next to her, where the young werewolf sat. Because if she did, she feared it wouldn't be Isaac sitting next to her, but the monster instead.

As soon as the bell rang, Florence dashed towards the exit, her books in hand. She needed to get out, it was all feeling way to claustrophobic – she could practically feel the walls closing in.

In all the rush, she left one thing behind.

Isaac picked up her bag and chased after her, hoping to give it to her. It was too late - she'd already gone. He'd just have to wait till tomorrow.

* * *

"Did you see that?" one of the twins asked, elbowing his brother playfully and then pointing to the seat of the young werewolf.

"Lahey couldn't keep his eyes off her," the other twin cackled, sharing a look with the other. They could only think of one thing.

_They found it._


	5. chapter four

_I would like to thank all of you who review, favorited, and followed. It means the world to me. _

_Guys, this chapter is my favorite so far, cause we finally have actual interaction. Tell me what you think..._

* * *

**SHE SEARCHED EVERYWHERE AND SHE STILL COULDN'T FIND IT.** It seemed like it was lost. But she always had it with her. Always. If it wasn't in her room, it was in her arms, and if it wasn't in her arms then it was in her…

Her bag.

Florence groaned, shaking her head in despair. It seemed in all the fuss of yesterday, she left her bag in Physics, too focused on getting out of there, getting away from Lahey. She couldn't speak to him, fear struck through her at the very thought.

_What if they are all like him?_

Even though Florence had known Isaac, had been friends with Isaac; she still couldn't trust him again. That's another thing the monster took. She couldn't trust anyone anymore.

_They could all be like him, every single one of them. _

She ignored, well tried to ignore, the thought, but it just repeated again and again, getting louder with each time. She couldn't ignore it. It was there in the forefront of her mind, reminding her every time what could happen if she trusted someone again.

They would hurt her. They would taint her.

She couldn't let that happen again.

She continued looking around her room in vain for the lost object. It most definitely had to have been in her bag, and that was most definitely in school. Hopefully. She wouldn't be able to get it till after the weekend because today, Friday, school had been cancelled due to a murder. Some teen had been found with their throat slit open, and all Florence could think was that she never wanted to leave her house now.

It was almost too much for Florence to bear.

The doorbell rang, disrupting the silence throughout the house and causing poor dear Florence to jump. A squeal left her lips and she stared at the empty hallway with horror.

Who could be here?

She knew it couldn't be her mom; she was still at work and didn't arrive until after Florence was in bed. She hadn't ordered anything. Maybe it was the post, bringing in a package or something. She'd just stay quite and pretend not to be in; hopefully he'll leave it at the door like they always do.

The bell rang again, followed by a loud knock. Maybe her squeal gave her away? Maybe they'd think it was a cat.

"Florence! Hey it's Isaac," she heard his muffled voice through the door. Her eyes shut tight and she started to hyperventilate. Her paranoid mind was right. He was like _him._

"You umm… you left your bag yesterday in class, I was going to give it back to you in school but since it's been cancelled, I thought I'd bring it, if you don't mind." Isaac was worried. He had heard her squeal when the doorbell rang, and now she wouldn't even answer him.

What if she had an abusive boyfriend who was beating her?

What if her mom married a dick?

What if? What if?

These worried thoughts kept passing through his mind and he was ready to break the door down if she didn't answer soon. He didn't understand why he was so worried, but he was and it scared him a bit.

"Florence," Isaac sighed, ready to knock one more time before ruining her door. Just as his hand was ready in place, the door opened slightly with Florence hiding behind it.

Florence let one eye pass the safety of the door to take a look and make sure it was, in fact, Isaac. She stayed there; looking at him, waiting for him to move. What she was doing, in her mind, was dangerous, but she had to get _it_ back. There wasn't a choice.

Isaac smirked as he held out her bag, which she snatched out of his and unzipped it, looking for her lost journal. It had her whole story, everything written there; every thought, every action, everything that occurred that night and on. It was the only thing keeping her anchored to this world - her only source of sanity.

She clutched it to her, hugging it as if it were someone close to her. Isaac watched her intently, and then looked towards the ground. She stared back, wanting to ask a question that couldn't leave her lips.

"I didn't read it," he told her softly, "if that's what you're wondering. I couldn't read it. I couldn't do that to you."

It was true. As much as Isaac wanted to throw chivalry out the window and read it, he couldn't. It would have been easy, just turn the page and find the answers to his questions. But he knew how it would affect her, knew how those simple actions could tear her world apart. He would wait until she decided to tell him, until she felt comfortable enough to share the secrets she held, if she ever felt comfortable.

"I guess I'll be off now," Isaac said, turning on his heels and heading down the front porch steps slowly. "Goodbye Florence."

When he was halfway down, he heard her, a whisper so low that if it wasn't for his super hearing, he would have thought it was just the wind, just a bumble bee buzzing next to him.

"Thanks Isaac," she mumbled incoherently. It had been so long since she had even heard her own voice that she could hardly recognize herself. It was so soft and broken, it was almost unlike her old voice.

Isaac turned his head towards her, giving her a small smile. She didn't smile back; her face was still straight and a bit frightened. But she was less frightened than she was before and it was an improvement. She tucked her stray hairs behind her ears as she began to shut the door. When it was finally closed, Isaac turned back around and began his journey back to Scott's house.

"Anytime Florence, anytime."

He heard the flutter of blinds in the background and felt eyes watching him, and smiled knowing Florence was watching him leave. Maybe he was helping her.

Isaac could only hope.

* * *

"Sir, it seems the beta has taken interest in a certain girl." A young voice told the blind man in front of him. The twins watched as their alpha turned over this information in his head.

"Is she like us?" he asked, waving his stick around, the wheels in his head turning. The twins shook their heads together, no's falling from their lips. Deucalion hummed in thought, grabbing the dart from Kali's open palm. He nodded his head to her in appreciation.

"It seems we've found Lahey's weakness." Deucalion laughed, the boisterous noise ringing through the closed room. He threw the dart carelessly in the direction of the bull's-eye; it flew swiftly towards its target and hit the bull's-eye center.

It was time to bring an end to Derek's pack.


End file.
